The Truth
by nicolalala
Summary: I'm different. I'm not like other girls. I, Natasha Jane Curtis, am a lesbian. Now, if only it was that easy to tell my brothers.
1. Prologue

I had never told them.

Not even my best friend, Two-Bit.

When they would tease me about boys and not having a boyfriend, I would force myself to laugh along with them, but my laughter sounded fake even to me.

If I told them it would break their hearts. I had heard whispered stories that traveled around the school of families kicking out their children or disowning them after discovering the the truth.

What was even worse was the clinics and programs that were designed to "cure" it. It was like a virus, a disease, that had to be cured like a cold or the flu or pneumonia.

Hell, I didn't even have the nerve to say IT. It, it, it, everyone would whisper. There was a constant fear, as if saying it, could turn you into a freak, infecting you and forcing you to go to one of those goddamn clinics where they would lock you up for days and try to kill your illness.

But it wasn't an illness. At least, I didn't think so. I had had scarlet fever when I was younger, and I was sick for a little more than a month, and then I got better. IT was something else. Something permanent, like a birthmark or a scar.

Some people spoke about it like it was a very scientific reaction of cells and chemical imbalances. "It's not real," they would reassure us, as we listened wide-eyed. "It's a mental issue that can be resolved."

It had slowly become an unspoken fear, a rumored plague. Boys could get jumped for looking at a man the "wrong" way, or for spending too much time shopping or knitting or any other activites that could hint that you have IT.

Nobody would accept it.

That's why I would never tell them.

I turned to the mirror hanging on my wall, after checking that nobody at home would be able to hear my quiet whisper. I traced my reflection on the dusty mirror and uttered almost silently, "I, Natasha Jane Curtis, am a lesbian," I could imagine Darry's face turning red in anger and his fists balling up, Soda's pretty face twisting in anger and frustration, and Pony's accusing glares if I ever said the truth.

If only I had the nerve to tell my brothers that. Instead, I found myself agreeing to go on a blind date with Soda's friend.

Damn.


	2. I

I stood in the dimly lit doorway, peering anxiously out the window. I thought I heard a car pull up, but it just drove by. I don't know why these planned rendez-vous made me feel so nervous. I just plain didn't like being around people that weren't part of the gang. I had grown up with those guys and I felt pretty comfortable around them. They always treated me like "one of the guys". If they only knew… They always attributed my boyish behaviour due to the fact that I grew up with three brothers, yeah I guess I was kind of a tomboy.

My date was due to be here in a few minutes, and I suddenly felt self conscious. Was I wearing the right thing? Did my hair look okay? I bit my fingernails worriedly. I considered calling Ponyboy but changed my mind. He would probably say I looked fine in anything, and he doesn't know much about what to wear on dates and such. I could count on Soda for advice with this kind of stuff. "Soda!" I called out.

He immerged from the family room, grinning good naturedly. "Yeah, Natty? You excited for your date?" I wasn't excited at all. I dreaded going on these stupid blind dates that Soda kept setting me up for. It's just so hard to say no to Soda though, he had practically begged me to go out with Sandy's cousin. He seems to think that happiness revolves around dating. Maybe I would actually be happy if I could date someone I was interested in, I thought wistfully. I had only agreed to go out with Jacob, or Joseph, or Justin, whatever his name was, because Soda had promised he would do my chores for two weeks.

"Do I look okay, Soda? We're just going to the movies, do you think I should have dressed a little more casual?" I was wearing a light blue skirt, and a patterned cardigan and blouse. I would much rather be wearing something more comfortable. The worst thing was these silly shoes that my brothers had gotten for me for my previous birthday. They were tight and pointed and left marks on the side of my feet. I didn't dare complain however, I knew they had cost a lot of money.

"Trust me, Natty, you look great! Guys love it when girls make an effort to get all dolled up." He seemed to sense what was on my mind. "Don't worry about it, just have a good time, maybe this guy will be the one!" I doubted it but I made a show of smiling and flashing Soda a thumbs up sign.

Suddenly a loud honk came from the driveway. I looked out the door and saw a beaten up car running on the driveway. That would be Justin or Jeremy or Joseph, my date.

I grabbed my purse and bounded out the front door.

"'Bye Dare! 'Bye Soda! 'Bye Pony!" I faintly heard Darry yelling after me to be back by midnight.

I wasn't excited about going out with some guy I didn't know, but I did really want to see that new Dianne Baker film. She was positively dreamy.

And who knows? Maybe my date had a cute sister?


	3. II

As I approached his car, I could smell the alcohol already. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. What kind of guy drinks before going on a date? Such a gentleman….

I decided right then that even if my date was a total hooligan, I would make an effort to make it work for Soda's sake. And maybe, just maybe, there was always the slight possibility that this date could go well and then Two Bit, Steve, Dally, and Soda would stop teasing me about being single. Single was exactly the way they put it though, if I remember right they called me a "lonely hag".

It wasn't like I never wanted to date. I sure as hell did. I would watch enviously as all of the gang would go out and meet all these great gorgeous gals and listen in secret jealousy to their sometimes not so appropriate tales of what they did with their broads. I just wish that I had that chance to have my own adventures like that with other girls. To be able to walk down the street hand in hand with another girl, maybe we would talking and laughing, maybe she would be telling me how amazing I was, maybe we would be kissing. Life would be so much easier if I actually felt some sort of feelings towards boys. But I just don't.

Lost in my thoughts, I almost tried over my feet as I opened the rusty car door and stared into the darkness of the vehicle.

"Hi, I'm Nat," I introduced myself as I slid in the front seat of the dirty car. I fought the urge to gag as the stench of rancid beer hit my nostrils. It looked like I would be spending most of the night breathing through my mouth.

I took a moment to steal a glance at my date. He was short, shorter than me and I'm only 5 and half feet tall. He was slouching in his seat which made him seem even shorter. My eyes made their way to his face which was half visible and half hidden in the dark shadows of the car. This made him only appear more frightening. He didn't even bother to acknowledge me or introduce himself or even spare a glance in my general direction. He sat three for a moment, his dark eyes never leaving the steering wheel. Just as I was about to speak up, he jerked the car into motion and zoomed onto the road. I hadn't been expecting that to say the least and as he made a sharp turn, my body slammed sideways and I ended up awkwardly sprawled on his lap.

I could feel my face getting flushed as I tried to push myself up off of him. "Sorry about that, I—I mean it was an accident. It was just your driving and—"He still hadn't spoken so I tried to fix up my hair which had been messed up during my less than graceful accident.

The never ending silence continued as I looked out the window in boredom. We had been driving for the past few minutes and it was much too warm in this cramped vehicle. Not to mention that it smelled like ancient booze. I fanned my face, when was the last time whats-his-name cleaned out his car?

"So, where are you from?" I tried again to make conversation. He kept his eyes on the wheel, causing me to huff in annoyance. I went back to staring out the window at all the trees and stores and houses and—Wait a minute! In the place of trees and Tulsa scenery there were graffiti decorated warehouses. I sat up and turned around to look out the back and side windows to ensure that my eyes weren't fooling me. I looked at this guy real hard. He, of course, took no notice of my confusion.

Two things dawned on me: I was in a car with a total stranger and that we were no longer in Tulsa.

I could feel myself start to sweat.


	4. III

In Pony's mystery novels that I sometimes read, the detective always stays cool. The trick is to act like nothing gets to you and to keep a poker face. Never let the villain see your emotions.

In this case, I guess whats-his-name was the villain. I sat there quietly and stared out the window trying to figure out exactly where this dark stranger was driving me. I don't reckon that I've ever been wherever we were. I felt so stupid. Darry always tells Pont to use his head, and I could just hear him saying the same to me when he heard how dumb I was not to notice that this guy was taking me somewhere. I could just picture his booming low voice hollering in my face. I cringed at that mental image and scratched my ankle. The socks that I wore were the only pair that didn't have rips or tears in them. I continued to itch at the uncomfortable socks, while still trying to look ladylike.

You know in cartoons how when someone has a great idea, and a light bulb appears over their head? I had one of those moments. I literally jumped up in anticipation, and doing so hit my head on the ceiling of the car. I didn't even have to look over at my date, I could already hear him barking with laughter. But back to my genius idea, I remembered a few days ago how I was folding laundry in the living room. Darry usually does laundry, but he was out working. I don't trust Soda to even try folding anything, he would just make a mess and start a sock fight. Pony would sometimes help me with the laundry, but he was in his room working on a math assignment. As I was folding some of the socks, I felt a cold metal object hidden in the clean clothes. At first, I thought it was maybe a blade that belonged to one of the gang, and I shook the jeans annoyed. I always told them to empty their pockets before throwing clothes in the laundry. As the heavy object fell out of the jeans pocket and I stood frozen, staring at it in awe. I had never even seen a gun, let alone touched one before. I stared at it in disbelief. I had this crazy notion that touching a gun would cause it to shoot immediately and end up killing someone. At the precise moment, Dallas Winston walked in the living room. I don't think Dally likes me very much, he always gives me looks like he sees right through me. I don't know, he just makes me uncomfortable. He took one look at me and the gun and started to chuckle. I gave him an indignant look. What was so funny? When he stopped laughing, he told me in an amused tone of voice that I could keep the gun. Since then I had stashed the gun in my sock drawer for safe keeping.

I snapped out of my daydream as my date turned another sharp turn, causing me to slam against the window. The revolver was in my left sock. I discreetly reached down to grab the gun, masking my devious plan with a fit of coughing. I quickly glanced at my date to see if he noticed anything. He remained, as always, staring ahead at the deserted road that we were traveling down. I could feel my sweaty fingers grasp the rifle tightly. I counted to five slowly in my head before throwing my escape into action. As whatever-his-name was took another turn, I seized the opportunity. I pulled out the revolver and pointed it menacingly at his head.

"Y-you stop the car!" I shouted shakily. I wiped the hand that wasn't pointing a gun at him on my skirt. My fingers were jerking uncontrollably as I waited for his reply.

My date turned towards me and for the first time this night, I could see his face. He had small beady eyes that I immediately did not trust. He casually ran his fingers through his thin brown hair and smiled lazily at me, like being threatened at gunpoint was an everyday occurrence in his life. Maybe it was.

"Whatever. We're here anyways." He spoke in a gravelly voice that matched his tough exterior. I blinked heavily. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to surrender and take me home. I sheepishly lowered the gun. He cackled loudly and turned off the car. I sat there for a moment before concealing the gun in my sock once more.

Without sparing so much as a glance, he clambered out the vehicle and stood at the edge of the road. I decided to stay put, seeing as I had no idea where I was. I couldn't tell what time it was, but the moon was already out. I wonder if Darry, Soda, and Pony knew that something was wrong. I wonder if they had a sixth sense that I was possibly in danger. I realised just how much I sounded like Ponyboy just then. Darry was probably reading the paper, and Soda was most likely out with Steve or Sandy, and Pony was definitely in his room, reading one of his countless novels. I bet that they didn't have any inklings about me being in a compromising situation. While I was thinking, I heard a great big BOOM! It was unlike anything I had ever heard before. In the next few months, I would often hear that sound again in my dark nightmares. I frantically climbed across the car to peer out the dirty window at my date.

What I saw there, I know I will never forget. My blood ran cold, and I had the strangest sensation of wanting to scream outloud but not being able to utter a sound. I stood frozen, looking at the scene that lay in front of me.

He lay on the ground with his mouth slighty curled up, and his squinty eyes half open. I stared at his face trying to forget. I closed my eyes and pinched my arm repeatedly, hoping that this was just a bad dream. Please, God, let this be a dream, I prayed for the first time in years.

When I opened nothing had changed.

Lodged in his unmoving chest, there was a bullet.


	5. IV

I don't remember screaming. I didn't even realize that I must've been hollering 'til I could taste the saltiness of someone's hand covering my lips. I stopped yelling, but my heart was still beating like a clock and my breathing was matching that rythmn.

My eyes snapped up to see who my silencer was. And I think if she wasn't covering my mouth, my jaws would have dropped and I would've been what Dad called "catching flies".

This girl that was covering my mouth was by far the most gorgeous person I have ever seen. She couldn't even be compared to these broads that the gang meddled with. My description of her won't be adequate enough to give the full picture, but I can try.

She has sleek, pin straight hair that went down to her ears, which other girls from school don't consider to be fashionable. I can't figure out if she straightened it, or if it was naturally straight as a board.

She had thin lips, painted an unnatural crimson color. Her mouth looked how children draw them; like a red line. Her nose sat majestically, a natural ski-jump, occupying only a small area of her face. I will do my best to explain how beautiful her eyes were, but you can't experience the loveliness unless you saw her with your own proper eyes.

She had brown eyes. But not regular brown eyes that authors use to describe irrelevant characters who have no important role in the tale. It wasn't the color that made her pupils extraordinary, it was the emotion and feeling behind them. It was like peering inside a mystery, and trying to understand what the story was. Oh darn, this sounds corny, even to me.

Right now this girl was looking at me like I was some sort of maniacal beast at the zoo. Oh right, I was staring at her for the last minute. I mentally groaned; the way to get a girl to like me is not by freaking her out.

Behind her, I could see a mixture of teenagers and adults, all raggedly dressed, carrying away my dates dead body. I choked back a gasp; I never even knew his name.

The girl spoke to me for the first time, with her fingers still on my mouth. "You can't start hollerin', ya hear? Rick had this comin'; the rascal was breakin' bargains wit' everybody and he's been owin' us all money since the second his sore ass came to town." I wasn't really listening to the words she was saying, but I was hearing how her soft, gravelly voice had a southern twang to it. She slowly took her hand off of my mouth.

"I'm Nat," I introduced myself lamely. The girl didn't answer me, but she gave me a suspicious once over before turning back to the group of people behind her, who seemed to be smoking something. She walked over, and said a couple of words to them before coming back to me.

I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly before retreating my eyes to the ground.  
"So do ya wanna ride back to wherever the hell you came from, or what?" the girl spoke up again. "I'm Paula, by the way."

Paula. Paula, Paula, Paula. I was tempted to say it out loud to see how it felt on my tongue.

I let Paula guide me to the dirt road by the old warehouse behind us. She was blabbing the whole time, telling me anything and everything. I wasn't saying much, it was nice to just hear her voice as she told me all about her. I learned that she was living with her gang at the warehouse for the past eight months, she had a mother who she detested and a father she adored, she was seventeen years old, and she was trying to quit smoking.

We reached a dimly lit open garage. I guess it belonged to her gang, it was sort of beat up and old looking. There was only one car in it, and it was a car that looked like it belonged in my neighbourhood, with graffiti all over it and shattered headlights.

Paula had talked while we were walking to the garage, so now when we were driving back to my house, it was my turn. I am not really an outgoing person, but I felt no awkwardness or shyness. I just told Paula all about the gang, how Mom and Dad died, and how high heels hurt my feet. I got to the part about Soda always setting me up on dates.

"I hate it, the guys are all dumb and annoying. I love Soda to death, but I wish he would stop doing that. " I complained as we turned the corner onto my street.

"Ya know, they say that if ya don't like 'em boys..." Paula started as she turned off the car engine across from my house. I was suddenly very aware of how warm it was it the vehicle. I could feel a drop of sweat sliding down my back. She leaned in, resting her forehead against mine. I swallowed thickly, and tried to ignore the butterflies flying around my insides.

"Mhm, go on," I whispered raspily  
into the silence.

Paula smiled mischievously. "...then ya like girls." And with that being said, she closed the space between us, dipping her head down and meeting my lips with hers.

My eyes sank shut as I melted into the kiss. It wasn't like anything I experienced before, oh boy. Her lips were soft and tender. When I parted my lips open, I could taste her. Her lips were flavored like cigarettes, coffee, and something else that I couldn't identify. Her skillful fingers slipped from the back of my head down to my hips. I pulled back suddenly, wide-eyed. What had just happened?

Paula licked her lips, which weren't so red anymore, and looked at me expectantly.

That had been the greatest thing that had ever happened to me. I just didn't have the words to say it without sounding like a right fool. So I smiled in what I thought was a sexy smirk, like Evie always gave Steve. Glancing up, I could see that the light in the kitchen was on, which meant Darry was probably waiting up for me.

Paula followed my direction of sight and luckily seemed to understand that I had to leave. She reached into her pocket and retrieved a crumply piece of paper with numbers on it. "Call me sometime," She smirked at me and licked her lips again.

I undid my seatbelt and hopped out of the car. I watched as Paula slowly drove down the dimly lit road that I call my neighbourhood, until her smallish car was a dot that my eyes could barely keep track off. I trudged up the porch. I could hear the television on, which meant that Pony and Soda were probably home too.

I think Soda asked me how my date went, but I don't remember answering. I hummed a song from a bubblegum commercial as I practically floated to my room and flopped on my bed, staring up at the ceiling with what probably looked like a stupid smile on my face.

That had to have been the most eventful date I've ever had.


End file.
